Behind the Scenes
by Redderhead
Summary: Story Mash-Up. We all know what happened in the story of the Hound, but this is a story of what happened Behind the Scenes. JOHNLOCK. Rated M for later chapter. General Fluffiness with a little angst.
1. Chapter 1

_Pretty obvious, but this is set during The Hound of Baskerville Episode if you squint – I changed it a bit; I do not own any of the characters or the BBC material, this is purely for my readers' enjoyment, and lets face it, mine too! _

Behind the Scenes

"Is yours a snorer?" The small blonde barman asked.

"Got any crisps?" John asked promptly, no longer denying what everyone thought about the Consulting Detective and the ex -Army Doctor.

Once John had scoffed his bacon flavoured crisps, he grabbed his and Sherlock's drinks, heading out into the sunshine of the beer garden.

Sherlock was sitting on a picnic bench and talking to the young tour guide. John sat down opposite his friend and quickly caught onto the trail of Sherlock's acting. Playing along was easy, it was easier now than it was at first, mainly because Sherlock had started off by acting alone – always leaving John out in the cold to stand beside him awkwardly, but now, Sherlock involved John every way he could on an investigation. This time, he got fifty pounds out of it. Score.

"So what are we going to do now?" John asked, popping the fifty pounds into his wallet.

Sherlock focussed on him with an icy cold stare. Sherlock always stared more than was necessary, John was again, more comfortable with this now than he was when he had first met the eccentric genius.

"We need to visit our client" Sherlock stated before taking a sip of his lime and soda water.

They shared a comfortable silence in the sunshine as they finished their drinks and headed back to their hired Land Rover.

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Later that night, John walked back to the pub alone, he followed the main single track road in the dark with only his torch to guide him. He was anxious to get back to Sherlock, had he really seen what their scared-to-death client had seen? Why had Sherlock run off back to the pub without stopping to say goodnight to their delicate client with him?

Finally he reached the warm entrance to the pub and promptly found Sherlock at the fireplace, in the bar?

"Here's me thinking you had never set foot in a pub" John chuckled as he sat down heavily on the armchair opposite the taller man and was amazed at just how much this place reminded him of home at 221B.

Sherlock didn't reply.

John used his new found observation talents to deduce his friend;

Dram of whisky – a shock remedy, shaking hand – physical sign of stress, red skin around his eyes – could be sign of many things; upset, drunk, stressed etc.

Sherlock was sweating; his usually immaculate head of curls was now in disarray and slightly stuck to his forehead, he was blinking rapidly and staring at his shaking hand.

John leaned forward.

"Sherlock, did you see something out there?" John questioned quietly.

Sherlock remained quiet, he glanced up at John, just for a split second, but it was enough for John to spot vulnerability.

Sherlock downed his glass and stared at the glowing fire for a minute or two before whispering;

"Upstairs".

The consulting detective promptly got to his feet and made briskly for the stairs.

John remained seated for a minute before jumping up in hot pursuit, puzzled and worried, he followed his friend up the staircase.

Behind the bar, the tall bearded owner winked at the shorter blonde chef knowingly.

John entered their room; he closed the large oak door behind him and pushed across the lock. He sighed as he saw that the owners _had _given them a double room, despite their apologies about not having any left.

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed; he had removed his shoes, socks and suit jacket. He looked so forlorn and John couldn't help but be drawn in to comfort his friend.

Sitting beside Sherlock, John patted his back with his hand soothingly.

"I saw it, John" Sherlock said shakily, looking down at his bare feet. "A gigantic hound." Sherlock's tone was one of fear and anguish.

John's eyebrows furrowed as his hand stopped its soothing motion on his colleague's back, he looked down at him quizzically.

"Sherlock, why did you tell that poor man that you hadn't seen it? He is bordering on mentally insane!" John questioned incredulously.

"I don't trust my eyes, John." Sherlock looked up at John then, his grey-blue eyes wet and panicked. "For the first time in my life, I don't trust my eyes".

John stared at the incredible man before him, reduced to a frightened child at the thought of not being able to deduce.

"Now, you listen here, Sherlock, we will get to the bottom of this, we always do. There is nothing wrong with you, everything will look better in the morning" John said in his calmest voice watching as the man's gaze returned to his own feet.

"John, I saw a very, very large hairless hound, it was glowing. Surely, that kind of animal cannot exist!" Sherlock said defensively.

"Why don't we have a nosy in Baskerville tomorrow?" John questioned with an amused smile, hoping to cheer up the defeated detective.

Sherlock smiled faintly and turned his face back to John.

"I know just how to get us in" He said coolly.

"Good, now, I suggest we get some rest, you need to sleep that whisky off before I dare get anywhere near that Land Rover with you at the wheel." John nudged Sherlock's shoulder with his own playfully and Sherlock smiled once more. They stood from the bed and began their evening rituals, brushing teeth and changing clothes.

John clambered into the right hand side of the large oak framed double bed; he lay down against the soft pillows with a groan and pulled the fresh duvet up to his chin. He heard the shower being turned on and listened calmly to his friend washing away his fears.

Sherlock appeared from the bathroom five minutes later, towel drying his hair, another towel around his waist.

To John's surprise the detective sat down on the bed next to him, still drying his hair.

Even more to John's surprise, it strikes him instinctively to return his hand to Sherlock's back, continuing to rub those soothing circles lazily into warm the skin he found there.

Sherlock had stopped his attentions to his hair as he allowed John's touch to calm him. He wasn't used to being touched, but it seemed to be what his body currently craved as he carefully laid down beside John on the little ledge that was left on the mattress.

"Get your pyjamas on, Sherlock, you'll go to sleep quicker if you are comfortable." John explained quietly, he stopped his hands' motion and gave Sherlock a gentle nudge.

The taller man reluctantly got up from the comfortable mattress and made his way back to the bathroom, his whole body language weak and tired.

John shifted over to the far away side of the bed when Sherlock returned, letting the taller man have the pre-warmed sheets and mattress.

Wordlessly, Sherlock resumed his position under the sheets as John resumed his light tickling of Sherlock's back.

Slowly, the pair drifted off into a calm and dreamless sleep without setting the next morning's alarm.

Sherlock woke calmly and quietly, there was no panic, no mad ideas running through his head, no experiments ticking over in the back of his brain. He was possibly the most calm he had ever been.

There was a firm and warm arm draped over his waist that wasn't his own. He observed his own reactions to what he was able to feel.

The slight dusting of hair on John's arm – unmoving, he is at a comfortable temperature and most likely still asleep. Sherlock could feel John's knees cupped in behind his own, actually, come to think of it he could feel every inch of John's body pressed up against his back, and he liked it. John's nose was nestled into Sherlock's hair resulting in a regular warm breeze down his neck.

Sherlock had a sudden desire to turn around and observe his sleeping colleague, however, the fear of waking him – not an issue he had experienced previously – made Sherlock stay still, prolonging the experience for as long as his waking brain would allow.

Eventually, Sherlock's brain was screaming, reeling and rolling, requiring mystery and requiring action. Sherlock reluctantly lifted John's arm from his bare chest and sat up awkwardly.

"Where ya goin'?" John sleepily said.

Sherlock turned to John as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"We _are_ on a case, John" Sherlock said gently, smiling down at the sleepy doctor.

"Case can wait" John said dismissively, raising an arm out and outstretching his hand towards Sherlock.

"Unfortunately not, John, we need to get to the bottom of this Hound" Sherlock said as he stood up and walked towards the bathroom.

John watched him go sadly; he had had the best night's sleep of his life, firmly locked around his wild flatmate. John assumed this was because he could keep an eye on the sociopath, no new holes in walls and no screeching violin in the early hours. But deep down, he knew it was more, he was selfishly enjoying the fact that Sherlock had _needed _him.

Sherlock returned to the bedside, immaculately washed and dressed.

"Come on John, get up, shall I order your breakfast downstairs?" Sherlock asked in his usual baritone.

John sat up and rubbed at his eyes, he looked back up at Sherlock, his dark blue eyes now bleary and red. He nodded gratefully before reaching for the corner of the duvet and clambering out of the sheets.

Sherlock smiled. "See you outside" he said as he retreated to the door, grabbing his coat and scarf he left the good doctor to it and bounded down the steps to the bar.

"Good Morning" He greeted the bar tenders happily. "Can I please have a full English breakfast, a pot of tea and a black coffee?" He reeled off to the short blonde.

"We'll bring it out" The taller bearded man interjected. Sherlock looked between the two and smiled briefly before walking out into the afternoon sunshine.

"Don't need to tell me that gay is the way" The short blonde whispered to his partner. "I think _that_ is evidence enough!"

"Certainly didn't have the heart to tell him breakfast was over two hours ago" The bar owner answered with a smile.

Sherlock sat at the picnic bench in the sunlight, his coat and scarf unnecessary, sitting beside him unused. He watched as John approached the table, obviously having picked up his breakfast.

The place was empty, not even one of the tours were gathered around the entrance to the homely pub.

"Had no idea of the time" John laughed as he took a seat opposite Sherlock.

"Yes, we did sleep in a bit" Sherlock muttered as he looked up to the sky.

"So, you don't…learn about the solar system….but you do learn about…the time of day by the sun" John said between bites of his hot food.

"It's important to know what time of day it is without a watch, John. Surely the military taught you that" Sherlock said dismissively.

John smiled, they were as normal; last night hadn't changed a thing.

"No, my scout leader taught me that" John said with a smile before he popped a corner of an egg in his mouth.

Sherlock returned the smile widely.

000000

"Oh please, can you not do that" John said dismissively.

"What?" Sherlock questioned, genuinely at a loss as to what his colleague meant.

"You, being all mysterious with your cheekbones, and turning your collar up to look cool" Sherlock stared down at his friend incredulously.

"I don't do that" Sherlock stated.

"Yes you do!" John called as he climbed into the passenger side of the vehicle.

Sherlock smiled, he knew he did this, and he now knew how it affected John.

"John, we need to get back into Baskerville tonight." Sherlock stated half way back to their pub.

"Well, we'll just have dinner and then go, how are we going to get back inside?" John asked curiously.

Sherlock parked up the dark 4x4 in the car park to the pub and pulled his phone out of his pocket;

"Dear brother, how are you?" Sherlock drawled into the phone.

John smiled and rolled his eyes.

"I've_ negotiated_ 12 hours in the labs. John, go down to that first lab we were in earlier. Keep your eyes peeled, use this key card, its access all areas. Report back to me with anything you find" Sherlock briefed John before disappearing into the head office.

John softly marched down the corridors, his back straight, his stance reading Military from head to foot; he took the lift and selected the appropriate level. John was very aware that he was currently unarmed, a stupid thing to have done, left his weapon in their room at the inn. He settled once his hand found an item in his pocket; he had Sherlock with him if he had his mobile phone.

John wasn't scared when the alarms were activated and the lights went out. He wasn't scared when the doors were automatically shut down. He was scared when he saw the empty cage with the forced bars.

He clambered into an empty cage and pulled the latch across the gate, hiding himself with the cage cover. He sat down on the far side, his back pushed into the metal bars as he surveyed his parameters with controlled breathing. He had heard it. He had heard the hound.

"Sherlock, it's in here, it's in here with me" he whispered into the phone.

"John, where are you? Tell me where you are" Sherlock said down the phone.

"In the lab, I'm in the first lab that we were in" John panicked.

"I'll find you. Can you see it John?" Sherlock whispered.

"No, but I can hear it, please Sherlock, help me" John whimpered.

"John, can you see it?" Sherlock demanded through the phone.

Just then John saw a large black object approaching the cage. It was huge with glowing skin and red eyes. John's eyes began to water with fear as he locked eyes with the beast.

"Yes, I can see it" John confirmed in a defeated tone, this was it; this was how he was going to die.

With a growls roar, the lights were on and Sherlock opened the cage.

"It's ok John" Sherlock said gently extending his arm out to help John up from the floor.

"No, Sherlock, it's _not ok! _It was here Sherlock, it was here!" John shouted angrily scanning the area wildly.

Sherlock took one look at the frightened Army Doctor in front of him and felt instantly guilty. Without being really aware of his actions he extended his arms out and wrapped them protectively around his friend's back, bringing his left hand to rest on the shorter man's neck.

John didn't resist, he just stood, breathing deeply into Sherlock's scarf.

"Its ok, John, it wasn't real, you've been drugged, we've all been drugged, it was a hallucination. We saw what we expected to see" Sherlock cooed gently, letting his cheek rest on top of the shorter man's head.

At this John let out a sob, he grasped Sherlock's coat in both of his hands and kept the Consulting Detective close.

Sherlock's eyes widened;

"You got quite a fright, didn't you?" He asked numbly, letting his left hand gently stroke the transition of hair to skin on John's neck. John nodded into Sherlock's scarf and sniffed attempting to pull himself together. Sherlock had no idea what his own body was doing apart from betraying his mind mostly.

"I'm sorry, I just, was so ready. Oh…" John let out a breath "Thank you for coming" he continued as he took in a deep breath and pulled away slightly from his tall friend.

Sherlock smiled, he let go of his friend and straightened out his scarf.

"You sure you're ok?" Sherlock asked hesitantly, noticing John's body trembling and deep breathing racking his chest.

"Yep, fine" John dismissed; he coughed a little awkwardly and wiped at his face determinedly.

"Come on, let's go and see a woman about bluebell." Sherlock said lightly, smiling to John before walking at his side toward the exit. John had one last nervous look around the now brightly lit lab before he closed the door firmly behind them.

John knew that the "Get out, I need to go to my Mind Palace" was not directed at him, but he still left the lab anyway. Sherlock visited the Mind Palace if the room was empty or if the only other person in it was John. John supposed it was a trust issue.

Just as he walked around the corner with the professor, explaining the 'mind palace' he heard Sherlock's footsteps approaching quickly.

"John" Sherlock said as he walked past, heading for the door, not looking at anything else.

John thanked the professor loosely and ran to catch up with Sherlock.

"Where are we going?" John asked, panting slightly at the effort to keep up with the lanky detective.

"Back to the hollow. I need to examine the paw prints" Sherlock said smartly as he climbed into their Land Rover.

John couldn't suppress the shiver that fell down his spine. He wanted to go back to the pub, have some dinner and a cup of tea, the last thing he wanted to do, was face that beast; real or not.

On the walk down to the hollow, Sherlock was in overdrive, extremely alert and ready for any attack or sign of hallucinogen. In his peripheral vision he could see John visibly shaking, the torch beam suffering from the pressure.

Sherlock understood the human condition; he needed a variable to calm his friend down, keep his alertness up and his fear away. Sherlock gently reached a gloved hand out and wordlessly took hold of John's free hand.

As far as he knew it was not a romantic attachment or gesture; it was a friend comforting a friend, is that not what friends do?

John was taken aback at first, but realised how much he needed support at this moment, so he held Sherlock back. John smiled and felt childish, holding Sherlock's hand as two children would in the school playground whilst playing; pretending to be scared of a big imaginary beast.

Eventually, John's phone began to ring; John reluctantly broke the contact with his friend to answer it. It was the therapist; something had happened.

"Lestrade, meet us at the hollow, quickly, do not come unarmed." Sherlock stated on his own phone, he then hung up, grabbed John's hand once more and ran toward the hollow.

0000000

John ensured their client's safety as Sherlock ran an expert eye over the deceased dog and gave Lestrade a statement before the pair headed back to the pub.

It was very late and the main door was locked, the pair had to ring the doorbell for the attention of the owner.

The bearded man smiled as he opened the door welcomingly.

"Well, if it isn't our two favourite guests" He said brightly. "Wow, you look like you've had an adventure today." He stated looking the pair up and down.

Sherlock and John eventually made it to their room and John collapsed onto the freshly made bedspread. Sherlock smiled weakly at his friend's groan as he removed his coat and made his way to the tea tray on the desk. He boiled the kettle and made two cups of steaming hot tea before gently handing a cup to his friend. Sherlock sat on the empty side of the bed and continued to drink his tea slowly, staring at the wall quietly.

"You said, 'no, not here, not now'" John stated, rolling the back of his head against the headboard to look at his colleague.

"What?" Sherlock asked, snapping out of his reverie.

"When we were in the hollow, and our…now blown-up, suspect appeared; you said 'no, not here, not now'" John repeated in a small voice. "What did you see?"

"What did _you _see?" Sherlock asked interestedly.

John blushed and looked down at his mug of tea. "I saw a Cyberman." John whispered, not making eye contact with the consulting detective.

Sherlock let out a snigger before he smiled at John; "I said Doctor Who would give you nightmares" he said quietly. "I saw Moriarty." he continued in a firm whisper.

John turned to Sherlock, a look of awe written clearly upon his face.

"What, John? That look is really not becoming on you" Sherlock said in his normal voice level.

"So you fear him, then?" John asked quietly.

"I do not fear _him _per say. I fear what he is in control of" Sherlock said thoughtfully, draining his cup and placing it quietly on the bedside table.

"What? The criminal activity you mean?" John questioned lightly.

"No, the people he can manipulate, the plans he has to 'burn the heart out of me'" Sherlock said with a tight smile at his friend. "Whatever he has in wait, it's sure to be _very _unpleasant and will not only affect me."

John's heart sank. What did he mean? It would affect more than just him. Maybe it meant that Moriarty, being a true psychopath, would target him through his family. Mycroft, but then, Mycroft is not as close to Sherlock as Mrs Hudson was, hell even Lestrade was closer to Sherlock than Mycroft, but closest of all, was John.

"Me" John whispered.

Sherlock's ice blue stare fixed itself on John then, looking through his dark blue eyes carefully.

"Yes" Sherlock said hesitantly. "But, I will not let anything hurt you, Doctor Watson, not if I can help it." He said with another tight lipped smile. "Come, let's get some rest, I slept rather well last night, not sure about you though". Sherlock's change in conversation had the desired affect and John smiled.

"I slept better than I have for years" John replied truthfully as he drained his own tea and stood to go to the bathroom.

Sherlock smiled then, he knew John had slept well, but it always amused him to ask and to hear John tell him the truth always gave him enjoyment.

Sherlock stripped his own clothing down to his white boxers and silently slipped into the bed, he lay staring at the ceiling for some time before John came out of the bathroom, cotton pyjamas covering his skin self consciously.

The room was silent as John clambered into the sheets on the opposite side of the bed and mirrored Sherlock's position. After a while, Sherlock spoke to the darkness surrounding them.

"Is it a big scar?" He asked curiously.

"What?" John asked, confused.

"Your shoulder, is it a big scar?" Sherlock asked again.

John smiled and reached out to the bedside table light, the middle of the room illuminated with the soft glow.

"Why do you want to know?" John queried, sitting up and looking down at his companion.

"Just interested" Sherlock shrugged.

"You've probably worked out what kind of surface area a shrapnel bullet can make just by the way I hold a book with my left hand" John smirked.

"By the way you hold your tea cup actually, but I'm still interested. I've never seen it" Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

John sighs and unbuttons his night shirt; he pulls off the shoulder closest to his flatmate. Sherlock stands up instantly and reaches his coat, finding his magnifying glass he heads back to bed, John notices his distinct lack of clothing as the man kneeled on the mattress close to John. Sherlock ran the magnifying glass over the silvery skin of the 6 by 10cm stretch scar.

Sherlock let a hum escape his throat as he sat down again beside John. "Nasty one" he said calmly, placing the magnifying glass on the nightstand beside the empty teacup.

"If you can survive a shot like that, I have nothing to worry about" Sherlock smiled.

John smiled then; he let his hand search for Sherlock's within the sheets and gave it a brief squeeze.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sherlock" Sherlock swallowed hard and looked up at his new bedtime companion.

John smiled and snuggled down within the sheets once more, leaning over slightly to switch off the bedside lamp.

As the two were engulfed in darkness once more, John turned on his side, his back to Sherlock; it was after all natural for him to sleep on his right side. Sherlock scooted up behind him and mirrored John's actions of the previous morning. Draping his arm protectively over the open shirted chest, he pressed his body up to John's back, making him feel protected and safe.

That night was the second of the best nights sleep the pair had ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

The journey back to Dartmoor station was mostly quiet. The journey on the train was busy and the taxi ride back to Baker Street was quieter still. Both men were tired by the time John unlocked the door to 221B.

"Why is travelling so tiring?" John yawned as he set down their luggage in the living room and made a b-line for the kettle.

Sherlock was quiet as he approached the familiar leather couch and flung himself unceremoniously across it, not removing his coat. John smiled lazily at his friend as he made the two cups of tea and headed over to the couch.

"Shove up" John said as he nudged Sherlock's leg with his own. Sherlock sat up and swung his legs to the floor, allowing his flatmate to sit beside him.

"John" Sherlock asked after a moment or two of comfortable silence.

John replied with an "hmm?" as he took a sip from his tea and let out a satisfied gasp.

"Do, you, think" Sherlock asked nervously.

"Occasionally" John jested as he looked up at his friend.

Sherlock smiled at this; "on rare occasion" he confirmed. His face grew serious once more as he looked to his flatmate, doctor, friend and colleague. "Can I borrow you, this evening?" he asked cautiously.

John spun his head to face the formidable man sitting at his side and fixed him with a look of intrigue.

"An experiment?" John queried.

"Of sorts" Sherlock answered, not looking at John.

"Happy to help, just let me know when 'cos I was planning to head out to the pub later" John said causally.

"Oh, Stamford?" Sherlock asked tightly.

John paused, it was not like Sherlock to ask after his personal life, but he shrugged it off.

"Yes" John confirmed.

"You might want to call him. He is on haemorrhoid medication – he might not be drinking" Sherlock said offhandedly as he swooped off the couch and walked briskly toward the fridge in one seamless movement. John stared after him before retrieving his phone from his pocket and sending Stamford a simple text.

Sherlock arrived back to the couch with a plate full of cheese and biscuits. John continued to stare at his flatmate in surprise.

"What?" Sherlock asked with his mouth full.

"You're eating" The older man stated dumbly.

"Of course, John, I've not eaten for four days." Sherlock stated.

John sighed and smiled at his best friend as his phone quietly buzzed on his lap.

'_No, not out tonight, sorry John – not feeling well.'_

John glanced to Sherlock as his smile grew wider. He couldn't help but reply;

'_Sorry about the haemorrhoids.'_

Once he had pocketed his phone he looked up to Sherlock – watching him shovel the food greedily into his mouth.

"Come on, I'm taking us out for dinner" John said standing from the couch and taking the plate from the taller man. "Something a bit healthier than this" he continued, placing the plate back in the fridge.

"Where are we going?" Sherlock questioned delicately.

"Chinese?" John threw to the detective.

"Angelos" Sherlock guided.

"Angelos, then" John confirmed with a smirk.

"Ok" Sherlock agreed getting to his feet and dusting down his coat from biscuit crumbs.

0000000

"So what's this experiment, _of sorts_?" John questioned the brunette who was currently twirling spaghetti round his fork with ease.

"Oh, nothing of importance, just an interest I have acquired over the case" Sherlock said in his usual bored baritone.

"What do I have to do?" John asked, concentrating on twirling his own spaghetti around his fork and clumsily knocking it off with his spoon.

Sherlock paused his attentions to his own food to watch John in his battle against the Italian dish with a fond smile.

"You're doing it the hard way, watch; scoop, guide, twist." Sherlock taught, John watched as the expert delicately guided the food towards his mouth.

"You make it look so damn easy" John stated in frustration, dropping his cutlery to his plate and looking exasperatedly down at his food.

Sherlock smiled widely, he finished off the last two mouthfuls of his food quickly before he pushed his plate away and reached for John's.

"Fine, you eat it, I'm not bothered anymore." John huffed.

Sherlock smiled knowingly up at the man before scooping, guiding and twisting the abandoned food onto John's fork, Sherlock then held out the fork for John to take.

John stared at the food neatly wrapped around the metal fork dubiously, but took it when Sherlock shook it encouragingly in his direction.

John quickly brought the fork to his mouth and ate the finely cooked pasta before hesitatingly handing the now, empty, fork back to his companion.

Sherlock twirled another delicate bite together before handing it back to John who smiled as he took it.

By the fourth bite; John looked shiftily around at the empty restaurant before leaning forward and popping the food into his mouth with Sherlock still holding the fork.

This amused Sherlock greatly as he watched John let him feed him.

"Its just practice" Sherlock said quietly as he entwined the last few strands of spaghetti together and held it out for John to eat.

"Thank you" John said after he had swallowed it, he smiled over the candle lit table to his friend, appreciating how thoughtful Sherlock could be when there was not a case on the table.

"You're most welcome, John" Sherlock said proudly. "Dessert?" He questioned, picking up the menu without waiting for an answer. "Angelo" Sherlock called as he examined the menu.

Angelo shuffled out of the kitchen and down the restaurant to see his last customers of the night.

"What can I get you, Sherlock?" Angelo said warmly as he looked between the two men questioningly.

"What do you think John?" Sherlock asked absentmindedly.

"Deduce what you think I would like" John said teasingly, smiling up at Angelo.

"Ok" Sherlock said slowly. "Angelo, could we please have one of those and one of those?" he stated carefully, pointing out the two on the menu out of John's line of sight.

"Not a problem, Sherlock" Angelo said gruffly before exiting the scene sharply.

John took the dessert menu and read it over, without looking up he stated;

"This is a date"

"A date?" Sherlock questioned with furrowed brow, watching John closely.

"You know, _a date_, what normal people do when they like someone" John said again, propping the menu against the wall, in its original place.

"Doesn't it have to be romantic to be a date?" Sherlock asked scrunching his nose up.

"Sherlock, you fed me my main course." John said plainly, staring into the puzzled light grey eyes opposite him, his head tilted slightly to the left.

"That wasn't romantic, that was helpful" Sherlock scoffed.

"So, are you going to tell me what the experiment entails?" John said, promptly changing topic, looking at his outstretched legs beside the table. "It is getting a little too late to burn holes in our table with acid" he chuckled as he glanced toward the black window.

"Would you _like _this to be a date?" Sherlock questioned; one eyebrow higher than the other as he observed his flatmate with eagle sharp eyes.

John looked quickly up at the consulting detective and licked his bottom lip nervously.

"No, no, don't be silly" John said half-heartedly.

"Yes you do" Sherlock said now with intrigue as he rested his elbows on the wooden table and laced his fingers together to lean his chin atop.

"Sherlock. Just drop it, please" John pleaded, maintaining eye contact.

"Would it be going well, if this was a date?" Sherlock questioned with a small smile.

John looked away and coughed awkwardly before returning his gaze; "Yes, very well, but it's not a date".

Sherlock smiled whilst continuing to survey his flatmate from the corner of his eye.

Angelo appeared at their table holding the two desserts; he placed them down around the candle, in the middle of their table.

He smiled and winked to Sherlock before making himself scarce once more.

John smiled widely at the two desserts and then raised his smile to Sherlock.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Easy" Sherlock stated, eyeing up the segment of Peach Jam Tart with Amaretti and the generous slice Strawberry Jam Tart.

"What, can you tell by my watch strap that I like Jam?" John asked with a laugh as he took a fork to the Strawberry jam tart.

"I could tell by your morning routine" Sherlock stated absentmindedly.

"You never see me in the morning" John laughed as he approached the peach jam tart with his fork.

"I hear you." Sherlock said distractedly as he picked up a fork and tackled the strawberry jam tart. John looked up at him expectantly; wishing him to expand on this. "I hear you descend the 16 steps to the hallway at 7:15, I hear you shower for 12 to 14 minutes before brushing your teeth for 4. I hear as you pad past my room in an attempt to be silent, I hear you put bread in the toaster and boil the kettle for tea. I hear you curse lightly as you climb the kitchen bunker to retrieve the jam from the place in the back of the cupboard that you think I don't know about. I hear you spread the jam on the toast and the rising heat from the bread carries the smell of baked strawberry jam straight into my room." Sherlock paused for breath and focussed his flatmate with an icy stare before continuing; "The only reason you would hide the jam and not eat it in front of me would be because jam is sacred to you, it is your favourite food and you wouldn't sacrifice it for anything."

John felt the fork fall from his hand and clatter against the table; he stared; slack jawed at the detective popping a piece of peach jam tart in his mouth.

"Hmm, I think I prefer the peach, what about you?" Sherlock asked as if he hadn't just explained John's every secret to him, the ones he had thought were well hidden.

"You listen to me every morning?" John questioned delicately, picking up his abandoned fork and looking at Sherlock; Sherlock was reminded of the first time he had met John's incredulous side in the lab at Barts.

"I hear you; I cannot switch my ears off, John. As much as I would find that useful in relation to Sally and Anderson" Sherlock said with a smile.

"Why don't you join me for breakfast if you are already awake?" John asked quietly.

"I wouldn't want you to miss out on your favourite food" Sherlock said abruptly, as if it was obvious.

John smiled, looked down at the two jam covered tart slices before looking back up; "Well, you know about it don't you, so you can".

"Yes" Sherlock stated taking his fork to the strawberry jam once more.

"Oi, thought you liked the peach one better" John said defensively.

Sherlock laughed before he leaned over the strawberry tart and exhaled a heavy breath over it.

"Sherlock! You just breathed on my tart" John said incredulously.

"Oh, sorry about that, guess I'll have to eat it now" Sherlock said mischievously, pulling the dish towards him. John's hand snatched out and grabbed the plate, steadying it as he stuck his fork in the remainder of the cake slice and shoved it greedily in his mouth.

Sherlock barked with laughter at his full-mouthed friend.

"No un feats ma shjam" John managed to say around the large piece of short crust pastry and jam obstructing his mouth.

Sherlock was still sniggering when John had managed to finally chew his way through his predicament and take a sip of his drink.

They finished up at the restaurant and paid Angelo in full, Angelo unlocked the door to let them out into the night's air before bidding them farewell.

The walk back to Baker Street took longer than it should of; Sherlock was dawdling; walking lazily, John walked beside him as he never took the lead.

Once they had reached 221B, John looked expectantly up at Sherlock as the taller man fetched his front door key from his coat pocket.

"John, if this were a date, what would happen now?" Sherlock queried as he held the door key between his gloved fingers.

John laughed, a puff of steam exiting his mouth and entering the atmosphere.

"Well, if it had gone as well as our evening had, then, I dunno, you'd walk her home, and then go home yourself. Not sure what we would do. We live together" he said pointedly.

"Do they not, do something before they say goodnight?" Sherlock tentatively asked.

"Well, I mean, you could kiss her, but sometimes that's a little far on a first date" John mused, entertained by the thought of Sherlock dating someone.

"But on a, say, sixth date?" Sherlock questioned further, looking down at his flatmate, the pair illuminated by the nearby street lamp.

"Oh, by sixth date, you go in for coffee" John said bluntly.

Sherlock smiled. "Coffee sounds good" he mused before turning to the door and sliding the key into the appropriate lock.

Sherlock reached the kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle. He breezed around the kitchen swiftly, scooping up cups and coffee granules before removing his coat and scarf.

John plonked his body down on the couch and picked up an abandoned book.

The pair sat in silence as they drank their last drink of the day until Sherlock let out a slight sigh.

"So, what happens after coffee?" He asked curiously, rubbing at the handle of the mug in his hands.

"Oh, I dunno, it depends really" John replied thoughtfully; "If you like her and you're pretty sure she likes you, then hang around, see if she gives you signs"

"Signs?" Sherlock asked with furrowed brow.

"Yes, signs, like, if she touches your arm, if she leans towards you, if she gives you a massage. That kind of thing. Then, well, then you take it from there." John said vaguely.

Sherlock felt bemused. He couldn't believe that John had not caught on by now. This was Sherlock trying to engage in a relationship, but he felt completely at sea – what chance did he have if John didn't acknowledge this simple information?

Sherlock decided eventually to throw caution to the wind and hold John's hand. It had been done before, why should it be any different now?

John jumped slightly at the contact, looking down at the hand that held his own, they did fit together well. John looked up at the stone faced detective who was currently staring at the wall, grinding his jaw in…apprehension?

The penny dropped.

"Sherlock" John managed.

Sherlock turned his icy cold eyes toward John and examined his face carefully, from this close a distance, he could tell everything about the man's washing habits, but he chose to ignore the deductions as he leaned towards his doctor.

John was frozen, the reality of his situation hitting him hard. He allowed his eyes to leave Sherlock's and focus on his advancing lips. Those pale pink lips, he briefly wondered what they tasted like before he shook his head slightly.

"Sherlock, we can't, I'm-I'm not gay" John stammered.

"Humour me" Sherlock whispered gently as he had reached nose level with the physician.

John stopped moving at the sound of Sherlock's whisper, it was innocent and light with that underlying curiosity he always had.

Sherlock reached John's lips with ease, just brushing them together with a butterflies touch.

Sherlock didn't really know what to do now, he was out of ideas, so he pulled back and sat, observing his prey.

John's eyes had remained closed for a short minute before he breathed again and opened them; looking at Sherlock as though he had grown an extra head upon his shoulders.

Sherlock had a back up plan that involved snapping into his usual cold demeanour and feeding John some rubbish about an experiment; he was just deciding whether to put the plan into action before John launched himself at the detective, knocking him back into the armrest and connecting their lips once more. John's lips were hungry, harsh and needy as he used the strength of his body to pin Sherlock down.

Sherlock was wading now; he had no idea how to react, so he didn't. John pulled back from Sherlock after a moment or two and stared down at him, Sherlock noted with sharp intake of breath that John smelled different, his eyes were black, and his breathing was shallow and fast.

"John, I'm sorry, I know nothing of this" Sherlock whispered, there was that innocent tone again and John instantly softened, his eyes returning to their usual kind dark blue.

He lifted himself from the detective awkwardly, Sherlock staying where he was, a blush colouring his hollow cheeks.

John paused for a moment, looking to the living room door and thinking. Eventually, the stalemate came to an end as John held out his hand for Sherlock to take. Sherlock hesitantly lifted his right arm and grasped the hand he was offered. John led him out of the door and through to Sherlock's bedroom.

Silently the pair readied for sleep and slunk into the sheets either side of the small double bed. As Sherlock snuggled in behind the smaller man, he smiled into the back of John's neck and whispered;

"Thank you for your help with the experiment"

John laughed. "Like hell was that an experiment" he mumbled sleepily.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile wider as he placed a delicate kiss to the nape of John's neck before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

000000

John woke because the sun was reflecting outside and hitting his face with force, he moved to snuggle into what ever it was that was large, soft and warm in front of him. He buried his face into skin and revelled in the shadow from the sunshine.

As the memories of the hound, Dartmoor, Angelos and jam all came into John's mind his body tensed, finally he remembered the kiss. Sherlock had never been in a relationship before; he could see that now in the light of day with his eyes closed, how stupid could he have been? He'd probably frightened the life out of him with that forceful lust he had briefly let out. The object he had taken solace behind started to move and John's eyes popped wide open to be faced with Sherlock's bare chest.

Sherlock and John were entwined together like the strands of last nights spaghetti in the centre of the bed; 'mutual feeling then' Sherlock deduced as he let his eyes slide downward to see the older man tucked into his chest. This was not an unpleasant sight and Sherlock smiled proudly as he had somehow unconsciously gotten further than he had when he was awake.

"Good Morning" He said quietly, his voice slightly raspy from sleep.

"Mornin'" John greeted back, mumbling against Sherlock's hairless chest.

Neither made an attempt at moving away from each other for several minutes, until John had to breathe freely and he had laid on his back, looking up at Sherlock, the sun behind him like some kind of halo. John laughed at the image.

Sherlock smiled sleepily down at John and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"So, what is this Sherlock?" John questioned, rubbing at his eyes.

"What is what?" Sherlock questioned, his eyes still closed.

"Us, last night, are we, I dunno, friends with benefits so that you can carry out your experiments?" John said resignedly, he was in a state of shock that he was so comfortable with the idea of 'Sherlock & John'; he just didn't want to scare the man off.

Sherlock opened his eyes and propped himself up on his right elbow, his eyes boring into Johns.

"Do you really not see an attempt at starting a relationship when you see one, John" Sherlock asked dully.

John opened his mouth but promptly closed it and furrowed his brow.

"I feel safe with you, I trust you, you are the only friend I have ever owned." John frowned at Sherlock's word use but listened on anyway; "You are the only human being I can touch and be touched by. You are my friend, my doctor, my flatmate, my colleague; we are practically already there. We have the chance to be something formidable together, John, don't you see?"

John stared up at the powerful force that was Sherlock Holmes and smiled.

"Ok then, Mr Holmes, what's one more occupation to add to the list." John smirked.

It was then that Sherlock's phone began to vibrate and wail from the beside table. Sherlock groaned lightly before rolling onto his back and picking up his phone.

"Hmm, a case." Sherlock muttered as he text Lestrade back.

"Anything interesting?" John mumbled as he rolled onto Sherlock and buried his face in the taller mans' neck.

Sherlock smiled; "Yes, I think I may need to take my harpoon." He said with a wicked smile directed at the ceiling.

John's eyebrows furrowed as he raised himself up slightly on his elbows to look down at Sherlock sleepily.

"Harpoon?" He repeated questioningly.

"Yes, handy things, harpoons, ready for any event that could transpire." Sherlock muttered thoughtfully.

"What's the case? You have a harpoon?" John questioned incredulously.

"Dead pig. Missing jewellery. Open, shut case, literally" Sherlock said dismissively, throwing his phone down onto the duvet and allowing his empty hand to play with John's short cropped and bed flattened hair. "Yes I do own a harpoon, it's under the stairs" he added offhandedly.

John's brow furrowed further as he examined the careless features of Sherlock's face.

Finally John let out a sigh and allowed himself to fall back to Sherlock's chest contentedly.

Sherlock's hand followed John and continued to play with the short grey and blonde hairs, he was torn. He didn't really want to leave, but then, he_ would_ get to use his harpoon…he allowed a glance down to see the peaceful, dozing, face of John Watson, upturned and laying heavily upon his chest.

He was surprised there was little fuss about their situation from the shorter man, how easy it actually had been. Although, he was still afraid of the next steps; sure he had read about relationships, dismissed the emotional attachment claimed by the ordinary people that surrounded him on a daily basis and even decided he was never going to lower himself to their level; but now he had; he felt the overwhelming protectiveness for his partner, and the evident fear of loss if anything were to happen to him.

John was an active man; he would be expecting the obvious from their relationship. A step that Sherlock Holmes had never ever contemplated and that frightened him to death.

"Sherlock?" John murmured – his eyes still closed.

Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at the man once more; "Hmm?" he asked.

"Stop thinking, its annoying" John smirked.

Sherlock let a chuckle out of his throat as he resumed his attentions to John's hair.

"Do you have to go immediately?" John asked, one eyebrow raised as the eyelid underneath lifted slightly; resulting in a half squint.

"Not immediately, no" Sherlock said quietly, looking back down at the Doctor.

John lifted himself once more, his arms taking his weight equally on the mattress either side of Sherlock's head.

"Good" he whispered as he leaned down and gently brushed his lips to the detectives.

The kiss was brief and closed mouthed, as they broke apart, Sherlock looked up at John with wide eyes; he was going to have to tell him. He swallowed and opened his mouth to whisper before his head had thought it through;

"Be gentle with me, John"

At this, John froze; he looked down at the man beneath him; noticing the visible trembling and the wide, panicked eyes.

"Sherlock, are you a virgin?" John asked just as quietly as Sherlock had spoken.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a brief second before confirming with a curt nod.

John sat back, resting on his knees, either side of Sherlock's hips; he brought his hands to Sherlock's exposed chest in order to calm him.

"Maybe we should leave this here then." John said gently, smiling down at the taller man.

"John, I want to…I just don't know how" Sherlock said hesitantly, laying a hand on top of John's.

"I know, but we don't want to rush anything, lets go and harpoon a dead pig, apparently…come back and make an evening of it." John said thoughtfully adding an incredible smile – 'obviously proud of this plan' Sherlock deduced.

Sherlock trusted John, and if this was something the good doctor needed, he would do his best to fulfil his new duty. He smiled in response to John and leaned up to kiss him briefly before lifting them both from the mattress.

"I'll make breakfast" Sherlock stated as he let go of John to throw his dressing gown around himself before swooping out of the room and into the kitchen. John smiled and headed for the bathroom.

Once showered and dressed John entered the kitchen to see fresh toast and the illusive pot of strawberry jam on the table neatly laid out with teacups and freshly filled teapot.

John smiled widely and took a seat, helping himself to toast and jam.

"You not going to eat?" John asked, munching on his toast.

Sherlock took a seat opposite John at their small wooden dining table. "No, John, I ate more than enough last night to last me all week." The taller man said with a smile; he poured the tea and took a sip before heading for the bathroom to get ready.

The case was…messy. John stood and watched with a distinct frown of disgust as Sherlock dramatically stabbed at the already deceased adult pig with a full size harpoon.

Sure enough the missing jewellery fell from the slit stomach of the animal and Sherlock, covered head to foot in blood, smiled proudly to the repulsed on-looking police team and pig owner. John laughed all the way back to Baker Street.

Sherlock and John arrived back into the living room of their flat in the late afternoon. Mrs Hudson had run into her own flat upon seeing Sherlock's state of dress and John suppressed yet another chuckle, John sighed heavily and landed on the couch in relief.

"I can't believe the taxis wouldn't take us" John said with a light laugh.

Sherlock sat down beside him with a slight chuckle, the harpoon still tightly within his grasp.

"You'd better get washed up, I'll order us a take out" John said using Sherlock's knee as leverage to get to his feet.

Sherlock remained seated and looked up at John with wide eyes, watching as the shorter man removed the harpoon from his grasp and walked out of the room to place it in the cupboard under the stairs.

By the time John had re-entered the room, Sherlock was standing a foot away from the doorway, a look of severe concentration on his face; the look he got when surveying a case. John paused.

"Everything, ok?" John asked looking around the room questioningly.

Sherlock didn't answer, instead he moved quickly, swooping one arm between John's arm and side, wrapping it tightly around his waist, the other cupping the side of John's face, Sherlock didn't wait, within the last 10 seconds they had gone from separate entities to kissing intimately, wrapped around one another.

John was taken off guard and for a moment it was not unwelcome, until he remembered the pig's blood. The doctor tried to gently pry Sherlock from him and look deeply into his eyes;

"Go and get washed up, we'll continue this then" John said, laying a hand on Sherlock's chest to ensure he understood.

Sherlock looked confused as he surveyed the shorter man; "But I want you now" he said in the tone of 'obviously'.

John grinned and felt his heart jump a little; when had his feelings become so strong?

"We'll get there. I just don't like the smell of pigs blood" John said, his face mirroring the 'obvious' tone of Sherlock's.

Sherlock smiled before bustling past John and down the corridor, closing the bathroom door with a brisk click.


	3. Chapter 3

When Sherlock was showered, he faced a dilemma, what do _ordinary _people do to ensure 'the event' went well? Never before had he worried about something so dully trivial. The difference now was that he cared. He wanted John to enjoy himself, he wanted it to all go smoothly, and he wanted John to be happy with him.

Sherlock sighed at the thought of his brother seeing him like this; he would laugh, and then probably educate him in the ways of the Human Condition – most assuredly telling him that feelings were the start of downfall.

Sherlock looked at the soiled clothes in a sorry heap on the floor and glanced up at his blue dressing gown on the back of the door, finally he looked to the bathroom mirror; surveying his unusual appearance. He walked towards the sink and fetched his razor; he should ensure himself stubble free at least. Once the task was done; not usually a daily task for the tall detective, he allowed himself to look at the selection of products John kept on the windowsill, deodorants, aftershave, hair product and talcum powder. Sherlock sniggered, how could the ex-army doctor not have realised his own orientation before now?

Sherlock used the deodorant and added a dab of cologne. He paused to smell his new aroma, he smelt of John. He took the moment to carry out a brief experiment and reached up to the cupboard above the sink, extracting his own cologne; adding a sandal wood flavour to his current hint of 'John musk'. He paused once more; this is what they both smelled like, together.

He combed his hair and wrapped himself tightly in his silky dressing gown before opening the bathroom door and heading nervously towards the living room.

John sat on the couch watching the telly with the food nicely laid out on the coffee table. Sherlock suddenly felt very underdressed.

"Ah, come on, foods getting cold. I got your usual, hope that's ok" John said as he spied an awkward Sherlock in the doorway.

Sherlock nodded curtly and sat beside John, careful to leave a gap between them, he carefully reached for the take away box and began to eat as directed.

"You're wearing my cologne…and yours" John stated with a small smile.

Sherlock felt the heat rise on his cheeks as he stared into his food carton.

"It smells nice" John said quietly with a wider smile as he watched his flatmate eat silently.

Sherlock tentatively looked up at John to see his kind smile and replied with a small one of his own.

They continued to watch the television, neither actually taking in the information on the large flat screen facing them. When all the food had gone, the pair sat in comfortable silence, just enjoying the proximity and the warmth of each other before John moved slightly up the couch towards Sherlock. The eagle eyed detective surveyed John at a sideways angle and smiled smugly when he felt John's arm wrap around his shoulder. It was slightly awkward, the height difference between them becoming an obvious issue. Sherlock continued to watch the television stiffly and surveyed an advert for a sofa sale wearily; the woman was lying across the rather mundane sofa with her head resting in her partner's lap. That looked comfortable. Sherlock began to slide down and tentatively rested his head on John's warm leg, the jeans were soft beneath his skin, and as he brought his hand up to assist his head upon John's thigh; John had let his hand fall onto Sherlock's hip, feeling the soft silk under his warm hand. The doctor smiled; he recognised Sherlock's complete un-education of the situation and knew he had to take things _very _slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the detective off now.

They stayed, rested in this position until John's leg began to feel numb.

John smiled; this must have been the longest he had ever seen Sherlock consciously still, it was nice, he felt a strange sense of honour at being the cause.

"Sherlock, are you tired?" John asked tentatively.

Sherlock sat up and faced John with a deductive stare; "If you are asking if I feel tired because you think I may be fatigued after the case, the answer is no. If you are asking if I feel tired because you want to move to my bedroom, yes." He rolled off, not moving his gaze from John's face.

John laughed; "This is going to be one hell of a strange night" he said looking up at his partner. "Come on then, no subtlety with you, eh?" he asked rhetorically.

"I would prefer you were plain spoken, John" Sherlock said blankly, looking down at John with an 'I don't understand' expression. John smiled appreciatively and stood from the couch, switching off the television and walking slowly toward Sherlock's room, the taller man caught the hint and swiftly bounded after him.

Sherlock closed the door behind him with a slight click, he observed John as he stood beside the bed; he had already discarded his cream coloured jumper and was holding himself in more of a Military way than the detective had ever seen.

Sherlock slowly made his way to the shorter man, his face straight, his eyes wanting. John gazed back into the husky-like blue eyes, transfixed by the sharpness of his features and the height of his stance approaching him with intent in the dark bedroom.

John leaned up and in to Sherlock, who was standing less than a foot away now, John paused; hovering over the pale lips of his companion;

"Sherlock, close your eyes" John whispered, his voice surprisingly raspy and sending a shiver down the taller man's spine, he did as he was told and was instantly focussing on his other senses; feeling the hot breath on his face, feeling weak in his lower legs, the slight draft from underneath his bedroom door across his feet.

John leaned closer, his lips just touching Sherlock's; "Move your lips with mine, don't be afraid, I'm here, and I'm staying here" John whispered against them.

Sherlock felt limp, he felt a fire erupt in his lower abdomen and he could think of no medical condition that could have started it.

John's fingers wrapped themselves into his hair as he guided Sherlock closer and gently pressed his lips to the pale pink pair that were, unusually, closed and awaiting attention.

Sherlock opened his mouth tentatively when John moved against him, soft and chaste, warm and moist. It was the best feeling he had ever had, and it didn't take long for it to grab hold and become addictive. Sherlock kissed John ferociously, a true proficient; he learned and executed the new activity with precision, rendering John weak-kneed.

John dropped his hands from the black curls atop Sherlock's head and blindly loosened the ribbon on the metallic blue dressing gown, letting it fall open. Sherlock was too distracted to notice his apparent nakedness until John's warm hands found skin that Sherlock had never allowed another person to touch. Sherlock halted the kiss at the feeling, standing determinedly, trying not to run away.

"Sorry, is this ok?" John asked, looking carefully up at Sherlock's closed eyes.

Sherlock nodded affirmatively, his breath heavy and his eyebrows furrowed. John hesitantly rested his hands on Sherlock's hips, taking in the view of his melamine skin and his surprisingly well built muscles.

Sherlock mimicked John and blindly placed his own hands on John's waist, his eyes remaining closed, his face expressing his concentration. John smiled and kissed Sherlock again, smoothing his hands over untouched skin, feeling the muscles ripple under his touch, standing closer to Sherlock than any other Human ever had.

Sherlock had the sudden desire to feel John's skin, he knew John's shirts by expert sight, and the buttons were dealt with efficiently.

Sherlock and John simultaneously gasped as Sherlock's long fingers danced over the shorter man's chest, mingling with the dusting of hair he found at the top, finally travelling his sides to span his back and hold his shoulder blades, pulling the doctor to his own chest.

Sherlock felt unusually warm and he could feel his palms were sweaty as he held the soldier; neither seemed to mind though as hands still travelled and lips still battled.

Eventually, John broke the kiss;

"Sherlock" John said in a husky voice Sherlock had never experienced from his flatmate before. "You ok?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded, nuzzling his nose blindly into John's, resting forehead against forehead.

"Do you want to lie down?" John asked tentatively, nuzzling his colleague back.

Sherlock didn't need to answer as he twirled them lightly and gently manoeuvred John to the mattress, quickly following blindly, only an inch away from John's face guiding himself by John's breath ghosting across his chin.

"Open your eyes look at me" John ordered gently. Sherlock did as he was told, looking down at John from where he had been on his hands and knees poised over the good doctor. John gasped, taking in Sherlock's black eyes and swollen mouth, he leaned up and over, turning them on the bed. Sherlock lay on his back and looked helplessly up at his new mate.

John quickly stood and removed the remainder of his clothes, returning to Sherlock, holding back the gasp as skin met skin. Sherlock sighed contentedly as John settled his body weight on top of him before resuming their kiss.

John was very aware of Sherlock's arousal and was avoiding touching it just yet, he did not want to overwhelm the detective. However, he did not take into account his own arousal and without warning; the two touched, sending shivers through every nerve in both bodies.

"J-John, do that again" Sherlock pleaded, wanting the feeling to last – wanting to study it.

John did as he was told, nudging his hips into the younger man's, they both moaned simultaneously before John decided to repeat the motion over and over.

The two were grinding on one another, their eyes open and focussed only on each others.

All too quickly John felt the crescendo building, an unstoppable force pushing him to his limit, Sherlock being tugged along with him evidentially as the man beneath him began to wriggle and writhe uncontrollably.

"John, John, what is happening? I feel strange" Sherlock said, his voice panicky and small as he clung to John, allowing himself to be rocked back and forth repeatedly.

John knew just how to talk to him; "Its physical release Sherlock, trust me, I'm here, I'll get us through it ok? All you have to do is relax and let go."

At John's words and sealing kiss, Sherlock's back arched and his eyes rolled, every nerve in his body filled with fire, he saw bright colours flash before his eyes and felt a hot wet sticky substance land on his chest. He let his mouth part as he breathed heavily, enjoying this almost 'out of body' experience that followed, a thought crossed his blank mind and he lifted his head with a sense of urgency;

"J-john, did you...?" Sherlock asked, his breath escaping him as he felt his head fall back into the pillow.

"Shh, yes, I did" John shushed the taller man, resting his forehead against the pillow beside his companions' head.

The pair did not move for several minutes until John felt the stickiness between them really couldn't wait, he awkwardly untangled himself from the detective, dropping a kiss to his forehead as he did. He grabbed Sherlock's dressing gown from the floor and went into the bathroom. Sherlock instantly hated the absence of his partner. He felt cold, his own and John's release congealing against his quickly cooling skin.

Then he felt a soft warm and wet cotton material rubbing at his stomach, he opened his eyes to see his doctor cleaning him up with a kind smile across his face. John swapped the wet flannel for a dry towel and dried off Sherlock's clean skin. He dropped both to the floor and fetched the duvet from the bottom of the bed. He pulled it up and over Sherlock before clambering in beside the detective, throwing the dressing gown back to its place on the floorboards.

Sherlock slowly entangled himself with the shorter man, wrapping himself around John, resting his head on John's chest, listening to his steady heart beat.

John smiled and brought an arm lazily around his detective.

"So, did that go as well as it could have?" John asked the silence.

Sherlock did not answer straight away; he simply turned his head on John's chest, looking up at him.

"Could it have been better?" He asked eventually, furrowing his brow.

John laughed; "Well, for me, no, and I suppose you don't know yet." He mused "Guess what I was trying to ask is; is it something you would repeat?"

Sherlock blinked and stared up at the ex-soldier; "Of course" he stated firmly.

John's arm tightened briefly around his new partner, sighing contentedly.

"John." Sherlock started "I will be unbearable, you know that I already am, but this won't change anything. I will still be 'impossible' as you say." He said with a hint of worry in his voice.

John smiled; "I know." He looked down at Sherlock pointedly, touching his long nose with a finger and saying; "And I wouldn't change you for the world."

Sherlock smiled widely and lifted himself, moving over to John's neck, nuzzling it gently.

After a few more minutes, Sherlock suddenly raised himself on an arm again to look closely into John's eyes;

"You must understand, John, that I will not appear like _this_ outside of this flat, either." Sherlock said plainly.

John smiled again; "I knew that too" he said calmly. "And this is enough for me."

Sherlock smiled again before resting himself on John's shoulder once more.

"Thank you, John" Sherlock said quietly into the skin of John's neck.

John's smile extended into a stupefied grin as he wrapped both arms around his consulting genius and let himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

0000000000000000

_Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!_

_~ Jess_


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